If there was a god, maybe he could strike her with lightning? Was that too much to ask for? I waited a second and hoped, but there was no such luck.
“Fuck, man,” Avery breathed out. “That was . . .”
“Awful. Per usual.” I was numb.
“She’s the worst, but . . . sex ritual with Satan?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “That was a pretty good one. I’ve been saving it for a while.”
Avery laughed and finally released me. “You should save the CCTV shot of her expression from when you said that. It was priceless.”
I laughed with her, but then that laugh turned into a groan. “God. I have too much on my plate.”
“Well, let’s focus on the good things. I want to hear about Madi. And you can thank me now for setting the two of you up while we pack orders.”
I smirked as my heart rate finally started to drop down to normal. “Thank you for helping me get laid.”
“You’resowelcome. Now let’s get packing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Dallas
I cursed under my breath as I parked my truck along Main Street. The rain had been heavy all day and was only getting worse, which led me to calling it at the shop. I leaned forward and glanced over at the hotel, my eyes darting to the window at the very top where the artist loft was.
I’d made a point to see Madi every morning. I always stopped by the coffee shop, picked out the sweetest drink on the menu, and showed up at her door with it in hand.
Some mornings she was at the loft. Yesterday, I’d found her at the art gallery in the office Avery had created for visiting artists. Today she was back at home.
Well, her temporary home.
I wished she would stay.
Four weeks. Well, three and a half now. In the back of my head there was this timer that was always ticking, always reminding me that she’d soon be gone.
It all felt different now. Since Friday, the three of us had been talking nonstop. While I hadn't gotten my hands on either one of them again, I'd spent every night stroking my cock to the thought of all the sexy positions we could try together.
The primal need to touch both of them again was eating me alive.
In my head, there was a list of things I wanted to do before Madi left. Some of it involved kinks, yes. A lot of kinks. A lot of chasing and fucking and experimenting with her and June.
But aside from that, I wanted to show her all the good things about Whynot.
Like the fact that we had a community here. People took care of each other. Sometimes it was annoying that your next-door neighbor knew almost everything about your business, but other times it was a blessing.
Just last year, I noticed one of my neighbors hadn't gotten her mail like she always did every Friday at 6 a.m. on the dot. It’d been part of her routine for years. I walked out with my coffee, we waved at each other, I went to work, and she took her fluffy pink-slippered self back inside. So, the fact that she wasn’t there was a red flag. Of course, I knocked on our door, and when I heard a cry for help, I broke it down.
And I was damn glad I did. She’d fallen and hurt her hip and had been calling out for over an hour. She’d needed help, and I was still grateful I’d been there for her.
That's how it was in our town. People annoyed the shit out of me, but I also know if I ever needed help, I could count on them.
It was beautiful here. Thathadto be a plus. I never understood people that hated the desert. There was nothing better than a Texas sunrise over the Davis Mountains. No, we didn't have a verdant forest or golden beaches, but we did have skies that stretched as far as the eye could see and storms that shook you all the way to your soul. There were coyotes out here. Snakes, bugs, and all sorts of little critters. But they, too, made up a world that felt like a western dream most days.
I wasn't sure Madi would ever share my love for this place. I wasn't really even sure if staying here could be an option for her.Based on what I knew about her, she was probably going to look for work at a different animation studio.
She loved her art. I knew artists. I grew up with a dad who was one, and then later my sister too.
I couldn’t remember a single day where I didn’t see Dad at his easel. Even on holidays, I’d wake up, and he’d already have a pot of coffee going and his brush on canvas.
